


Happiest Place on Earth

by leyley09



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6354565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leyley09/pseuds/leyley09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicky and Alex take the brobeans to the Magic Kingdom. Revelations abound, shenanigans ensue, life choices are made, and Alex regrets starting a groping war in public. (Sort of.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiest Place on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> A deep Tumblr spiral led me to this post (http://thornescratch.tumblr.com/post/119366262033/i-think-michael-latta-tom-wilson-and-andre) and one particular bit of it was very inspiring: "I want Ovi and Nicky to take the kids to Disney because you know Nicky is the one who makes sure everyone wears sunblock and has bottled water, while Ovi is all “IT’S TEN IN THE MORNING, LET’S GET ICE CREAM.” Inevitably, someone will barf on the Tea Cups ride. Best family vacation ever." And I thought, I can do that. So I did. I'm pretty pleased with it, so I hope someone else enjoys it! 
> 
> Thank you to thornescratch for letting me share the post here, and to ChelseaIBelieve and CeruleanDarkangelis for not letting me say anything too stupid. And lots of thanks to D for letting me ask a thousand questions about Disney World.
> 
> Far more research went into the Disney World parts of this than anything else, so let's all just handwave all the bit of reality that don't fit my happy little universe here, like the fact that they'd never get this kind of time off in Florida, etc.
> 
> And lastly (if you're still with me), a note about non-English words. I have chosen to write my Russian in the Roman alphabet because I can't read Cyrillic (yet), and I personally like to know what a word sounds like even if I don't know what it means. Translations are in the end notes, but I think you might get the gist from the context.  
> ***EDIT - a thousand thanks to DGreenHat for helping me sound less stupid in Russian and Anna for helping with the Swedish!

 

“Everyone has everything, yes?” Nicky asks. He looks outwardly calm, but he’s checked the contents of his bag four times in the three minutes since Sasha parked the car. He’s also very quietly mumbling what sounds like an inventory - “sunscreen, sunglasses, water bottle, snacks, wallet, phone, park map, ponchos, tickets”. Sasha fights back a smile. Only his Nicky would pack this much shit for a one day visit to the Magic Kingdom.

“I’ve got my wallet and my phone, what else do I need?” Whip asks, bewildered. Burkie elbows him with a quiet “shh”.

Nicky turns to the backseat with a quelling glare. (Sasha is _not_ going to laugh. Yet.) “Who needs sunscreen?”

“Latts does!” Whip volunteers. “Ow, dammit, Latts, you know you burn.”

“Shut up, Tommy.” Latts is... not a morning person, to be very polite about it. He was not happy about getting up for the drive from Tampa, but apparently Whip is very persuasive. And Sasha doesn’t want to think about that any more; it is time for distraction.

“Okay, okay, time for ice cream, yes?” Cheers from the backseat echo through the passenger compartment.

“No, no, it is 9:30 in the morning - no way we are having ice cream right now.”

Sasha tips his head back against the headrest and sighs. “Nicky, this is Disney World. Ice cream in the morning is why people come.”

“C’mon, Papa,” Whip whines from the backseat. “Can we go now?”

“Yes, fine,” Nicky sighs as he hands a bottle of sunscreen over Sasha’s shoulder to Latts. “Everyone puts on sunscreen, then we go.”

The boys in the back mutter under their breath, but everyone obediently slathers on the SPF 45 - including Sasha, damn Nicky’s puppy dog eyes. They pile out of the car and head for the monorail.

The three boys charge ahead. Whip’s clearly had too much caffeine already. He bounces back and forth between Burkie and Latts, literally off of them occasionally. His infectious cheer has caught Burkie already, who is grinning and laughing to one side. Latts, as usual, is attempting to stay stoic, but tiny cracks are appearing, little involuntary grins that slip out when he thinks no one is looking.

Nicky isn’t actually watching where he’s walking. He’s too busy scanning the park map he printed out before they left D.C., and he appears to be navigating the parking lot purely by the press of his shoulder to Sasha’s.

“Nicky,” Sasha starts, quietly.

“Mhmm?”

“We need to stay with the children? All day?”

That finally gets Nicky’s eyes off the paper. “Oh, well, no, I suppose not? You think they will be okay on their own?”

“They haven’t killed themselves yet living alone, I think they can handle a few hours of Disney World.”

“What if they get lost?”

“It’s closed park, Nicky, where they going to go? And we all have phones, yes? They call us, we come find them.” He glances at Nicky out of the corner of his eye. “And then we tweet it, everyone makes fun of them forever.”

(Nicky’s giggle is one of Sasha’s favorite sounds. He could listen to that sound all day.) “I almost hope they get lost, now.”

“Hurry up, Pops, you’ve got all the tickets!” Latts shouts from up ahead of them.

“Coming, coming,” Nicky calls back, hurrying towards them while digging through his messenger bag, just to double check.

This is going to be a long fucking day.

********

Collective whining persuades Nicky that they can ride the train around the park later; they ignore his silent guilt-tripping. Having peeked at the map while on the monorail, Sasha confidently points the boys down Main Street USA towards the ice cream parlor. Which is closed.

The boys decide to console themselves with some kind of milkshake-looking coffee drink from the bakery back up the street. Nicky politely doesn’t say anything about it being too early for ice cream, but he does grin a little too much while they wait for the boys.

“Where should we go first?” he asks when the boys have joined them again.

Whip points directly behind Nicky and Sasha towards the castle. “Instagram.”

Nicky rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Then Space Mountain!” Burkie bounces on his toes. Space Mountain might possibly be the only attraction he can name. It’s one of the only ones Sasha knows, but he’s not about to admit that in front of Nicky.

“Suck up,” Latts grumbles, staring balefully into his overly-sugared beverage.

“Latts, c’mon, you gotta be in this picture,” Whip says, nudging him with an elbow and causing the straw of Latts’s drink to stab him in the cheek.

“Actually, I don’t ‘gotta’, Tommy. You and Burkie can do it just fine without me.”

“But I want a picture with _you_ . Please, Mike?” He drags out the ‘please’ into several syllables and shifts from whining into something entirely different by the end of it. (Sasha could have gone the rest of his life without hearing Whip say “Mike” like _that_.) He’s even fluttering his eyelashes at Latts.

The weirdest thing is _it works_. Latts sighs, face-palms, and then glares at Whip. “Fine, let’s go.” Whip beams at him and drags him towards the castle by his wrist.

“Are you going with them?” Nicky is asking Burkie when Sasha looks away from Disasters #1 and #2.

“Oh yeah,” Burkie replies with a sunny grin. “They just need a minute so Whip can _apologize_ better.”

Nicky’s eyebrows nearly disappear into his hair. He turns to include Sasha in his surprised expression which is shouting “did you know about this?” at everyone. Well, maybe just Sasha, since no one else is paying them any attention. Sasha shrugs. He didn’t “know” - he still doesn’t, technically - but there’s definitely _something_ going on there. If anyone’s going to know for certain, it’s going to be Burkie. Poor kid lives with them; he’s probably been scarred for life.

“We’ll just follow slowly,” Sasha replies with a shrug. He doesn’t care; it would be pretty hypocritical of him. It does explain a lot about all the roughing and fighting penalties those two morons take, but that’s a problem for another day. He wraps an arm around Nicky’s shoulders and pulls him along, down the pavement behind the boys. “You upset because -” he makes a very vague hand gesture at Latts and Whip, many meters ahead of them - “or because they don’t tell you?”

‘I’m not upset,” Nicky mumbles, blushing, “I just… didn’t realize they were talking about each other, and now I feel stupid.”

“They ask you for advice?” Sasha shouldn’t be surprised. If he had to ask someone on the team for relationship advice, he’d probably ask Nicky too. He hasn’t, because asking Nicky for advice on getting someone’s attention has always seemed a little too weird since it’s Nicky’s attention that he wants. But if he had questions about someone else, he would definitely ask Nicky.

“Right after the season started,” Nicky admits. “Latts was first. He just wanted to tell _someone_ because he didn’t think he could tell the person. We talked about it a lot because…” he cuts himself off abruptly, suddenly focused on the ground beneath his feet.

“Because…” Sasha prompts after a moment.

Nicky sighs, frustrated. “Because I know what that’s like.”

“Think most people know what that’s like,” Sasha grimaces. He certainly does.

“No, not like ‘ever’,” Nicky snaps back. “Like, ‘now’, I know what that’s like right now.”

“What?” Sasha stops suddenly. His grip on Nicky’s shoulder means Nicky stops as well, and only their superior reflexes keep them from falling into the shrubbery along the pavement. “Why you don’t tell me this?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Nicky frowns at him. Sasha would argue, but Nicky’s “disappointed in you” frown is much stronger than Sasha’s desire for information about this horrible person who’s making his Nicky sad.

“Fine. For now.” He turns away to hurry after the children before Nicky’s glare can have too much of an effect.

*******************

After many more minutes than is strictly necessary, Whip has almost a dozen very-slightly different shots to choose from - all but one include Latts - and Sasha has one good picture of all of them and one particularly nice picture of just him and Nicky.

“Space Mountain now?” Burkie asks Nicky.

“Space Mountain now,” Nicky replies, rolling his eyes again. He’s going to hurt himself doing that some day.

The boys dart ahead towards Tomorrowland, shoving at each other and laughing. Sasha waits until they’re out of earshot before asking, “when did Whip talk to you about Latts?”

They take a few more steps before Nicky answers. “Mid-November. He wanted to know what he should do to make sure a person knew he was interested, because what he was doing wasn’t working.”

“What did you tell him to do?”

“That the simplest thing would be to just say so, but he said he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that, just in case he was misreading the situation. I gave him a couple of suggestions, but I wasn’t sure if they would work; they haven’t for me.”

There’s a pain in Sasha’s chest at Nicky’s defeated tone. He doesn’t understand how anyone could not want to be with Nicky.

“Whatever you said must have worked,” Sasha gestures ahead of them. The boys are passing under the sign for Tomorrowland. Whip has pulled Latts in with an arm around his shoulders; as they watch, Latts wraps his arm around Whip’s waist. Burkie is paying zero attention to them, too busy with his phone. Sasha glances back at Nicky. He looks both proud and wistful. “You did good job, Nicky. Make them happy.”

“I hope so.”

********

They catch up to the children just before the line for Space Mountain.

“It’s going to be like 35 minutes,” Whip complains.

“You’re lucky it’s not more,” Nicky counters. “We can come back, but it’s only going to get worse.”

“Guys, we just wait. It’s not that long.” Burkie must really want to ride this ride; he’s never this demanding.

“Sasha, wait or go?” Nicky turns to him, followed by the boys.

“Burkie’s right, 35 minutes is not that long. We do this now, we don’t have to come back.”

Burkie cheers and dashes for the end of the line. Latts and Whip groan but follow him. Nicky puts his hand on Sasha’s forearm and squeezes.

“Thank you.”

Sasha suspects he’s blushing from the curious looks he’s getting from the children as they join the line. It’s just… Nicky doesn’t touch him very often. He doesn’t seem to mind people touching him, but Nicky doesn’t initiate it himself very much. Whip and Burkie are easily distracted by a conversation arguing the merits of Twitter versus Snapchat. Latts, however, is watching both Sasha and Nicky with a suspicious frown. If any of the boys are going to get nosy, it’s going to be Latts.

35 minutes is, relatively speaking, not a very long time at all. They’ve barely had time to dissect the Bolts power play issues before they’ve reached the front of the line. Burkie fights his way to the front seat, more because Whip and Latts are assholes than because either of them wants to sit there. Sasha is happy to take his seat towards the back and laugh at their ridiculousness.  

Back outside, Whip announces he’s hungry. Nicky pulls a pouch of dehydrated fruit out of his bag. Whip’s face wrinkles in disgust.

“Are you kidding me? They have jumbo turkey legs right over there. TURKEY LEGS, Backie.” He backs away from them slowly, like someone’s going to stop him and force him to eat the fruit instead.

“How big is ‘jumbo’?” Burkie leans in to ask Latts.

“Never as big as Tommy thinks it is,” Latts chuckles. Nicky chokes on his fruit. Sasha tries not to laugh out loud, but he’s still shaking a bit as the other two children follow Whip towards the snack bar.

“I did not need to know that,” Nicky says mournfully.

Sasha chuckle. “Is your fault, too, you helped. Oof.” He wasn’t expecting an elbow in the gut for that. “You have oranges in there?”

“Of course I have oranges. You think I brought snacks you don’t like?”

“I don’t know snacks are for me. How am I supposed to know that?”

“Well, he didn’t bring the snacks for us,” Whip interjects, sneaking up on one side of them, turkey leg dripping grease all over the ground.

“We just get leftovers you don’t want,” Burkie adds. His turkey leg is noticeably bigger than the one Whip is devouring, which seems to be simultaneously irritating Whip and amusing Latts. Sasha would put money on Latts being involved in that purchase somehow.

He turns back to Nicky, who is glaring at the children and practically Capitals-sweater-red in the face. They can discuss this snack situation later.

“Oranges?” He pokes Nicky in the arm and takes the hastily offered pouch. “Now where we go?”

Nicky proposes a perfectly rational circular path through the remaining areas of the park. The boys protest, and the ensuing argument ends with the boys headed off towards the opposite side of the park and Splash Mountain with strict instructions to check in regularly so Nicky knows they haven’t fallen into the ride and drowned.

“Sooooo…. all alone, what should we do?” Sasha bumps Nicky with his shoulder. Nicky blushes. Wait, _blushes_?!

“Well, um, we could, uh roller coasters?” Nicky fumbles with the map. Nicky never ‘fumbles’ with anything. This is highly suspicious.

* _DING_ *

Sasha fishes his phone out of his pocket, keeping half an eye on Nicky’s odd, flustered behavior.

**From: Latts**

_Have fun with Backie. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do. [smiley wink emoji]_

 

_We like all 3 of you or we like you and Whip?_

 

That seems like a valid question, because the kind of things they’ll get up to with Burkie are probably less scandalous. Probably. Sasha decidedly does _not_ want to pursue that train of thought.

* _DING_ *

**From: Latts**

_Ha ha. Definitely stay away from the carousel of progress._

 

Nice. Not even sort of helpful, and Sasha does not take instructions from infants.

“What is Carousel of Progress?”

“What?” Nicky looks confused.

“Carousel of Progress?” Sasha waves his phone around a little. “Says not to be missed.”

“Oh, well, it’s… just behind us, actually. Are you sure you want to do that? Doesn’t sound like your kind of thing.”

“We should do this right, don’t get many chances to do.”

“Okay,” Nicky shrugs. “If you’re sure.” He folds his map and stuffs it back into the bag. “Let’s go.”

*******************

Sasha is going to murder Michael Latta. This is 100% NOT his kind of thing. This is slow and boring, and the song that keeps playing is the wrong kind of catchy which means he’ll be humming the damn thing brushing his teeth tonight. In addition, the seats are very close together, and he can _feel_ Nicky fidgeting next to him.

Closing his eyes, he can feel the brush of Nicky’s jeans against his; he almost thinks he can feel the catch of the threads in his henley against those in Nicky’s. They’re trying to share the armrest; their arms are pressed together, and Nicky’s fingers brush against his just often enough to draw all of his attention to those patches of skin. They are far from the only people in this space, but Sasha can barely hear his own breathing over Nicky’s.

He wants… well, that’s the problem. He wants. But he can’t have, so he distracts himself with other things or other people, and the parts of Nicky he can have are great. He’s lucky to have such a great friend on his team, and he and the team are so fortunate to have Nicky and his disgustingly underrated talent. Yes, it sucks that he can’t twist his hand just a bit and catch hold of Nicky’s twitching fingers, but there are worse things that could be happening to him.

It’s a consequence of thinking so hard about his fingers that they do twitch more than he had expected. They don’t _quite_ catch Nicky’s, but they do twist around Nicky’s just enough to drag slowly back down to separate. Pressed as close together as they are, he can’t miss the sudden jerk in Nicky’s arm or the cut-off gasp.

The second act comes to an end, and as the scenes shift (or the seats shift, he’s very confused), Sasha has a flash of the text message from Latts - _Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do._ What would he normally do? If he was sitting in this dark, cramped space with someone else, what would he be doing?

As the lights come up on the third act, he decides _oh fuck it_ and moves. Settling his arm across the back of Nicky’s seat is perfectly normal, even for them, but it suddenly feels like **more** than it ever has before. There’s so little ‘back’ to the seat that he has no choice but to allow his arm to settle fully against Nicky’s shoulder blades; this, in turn, allows him to feel the way Nicky tenses abruptly before relaxing further back into the seat and Sasha’s arm by extension. He curls his fingers around Nicky’s upper arm and taps his thumb against the cap of his shoulder (unfortunately to the tune of that fucking song, goddammit). In the residual light from the stage, he watches from the corner of his eye as Nicky curls the fingers of his nearest hand into a fist. To finish off his ‘move’, he shifts slightly in his seat, tipping his right knee out to lean against Nicky’s leg. He can feel as well as hear the shaky breath Nicky takes.

This is….interesting. Has he just not been paying enough attention to notice this before? He spends a lot of time around Nicky, both on and off the ice, and he’ll admit he spends far more of it touching Nicky than is probably wise. Surely he would have noticed if Nicky was in the habit of twitching and gasping every time he touched him. So it’s more likely that this is something new today.

But why today?

 

_Because I know what that’s like._

 

_Like, ‘now’, I know what that’s like right now._

 

_I don’t want to talk about this._

 

_I wasn’t sure if they would work; they haven’t for me._

 

_You think I brought snacks you don’t like?_

 

_We just get leftovers you don’t want._

 

_All alone, what should we do? Nicky blushes._

 

Oh my god.

 

OH MY GOD.

 

The lights dim again; the room begins to shift. Underneath the incessant singing, Sasha can hear Nicky breathing again. As the room slows to a stop, he recognizes the pattern. This is Nicky’s “I am projecting calm because at least one person needs to be calm right now” breathing, which means that, internally, Nicky is completely freaking out.

Fortunately, Sasha knows what to do with a Nicky that is losing his shit - absolutely nothing. Acting like everything is fine gives Nicky the space and time to pull himself together. If he pushes too soon, well, the ride back to Tampa is going to be very uncomfortable. So he sits through the final act of this godforsaken thing as if he hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary is going on. It drags on, and on, and on. There’s one last shift before they can exit the pavilion, and Nicky is tensing up before the lights have even gone down all the way.

The room comes to a stop, the exit doors open, and Nicky is out of his seat as if it were on fire. Sasha nearly tips over; he hadn’t realized he was putting quite that much of his weight on Nicky. He pulls himself out of the seat and heads for the door at a much more normal speed. It’s not like Nicky’s going to actually abandon him. (He hopes.)

Nicky beat the crowd out, and it’s going to take a couple of minutes for the tide of people leaving this room to let Sasha back out into the daylight. He digs his phone out of his pocket. Time to research while he’s waiting.

**To: Latts**

_What do you know about person Backie likes_

 

_I know I’m not allowed to tell you about them_

 

_Someone I know?_

 

_Maybe_

 

_Has something to do with Backie being weird with me?_

 

_What are you doing_

 

_Carousel of Progress_

 

*RING* Latts’s face flashes up at him from his phone’s screen.

“What?”

“Okay, I am totally not supposed to be telling you this, so I need you to promise that Backie isn’t going to kill me if he finds out it was me.”

“I try, cannot promise more than that.”

Latts sighs. “Fine. Can you tell me what he did that was weird?”

Sasha rolls his eyes. He’s nearly to the door now, even after pausing to let a couple of families with a million children a piece and two men in wheelchairs go ahead of him. “He got all twitchy when I put my arm on the back of the seat. Breathing funny.”

“His ‘going to shootout’ breathing?”

Sasha snorts a laugh. “Yes.”

“Yes, the person Backie likes has something to do with why he’s being weird.”

“Because….” He will make this kid cover the goal - WITHOUT PADS - while he takes slap shots if he doesn’t get to the goddamn point soon.

“Because it’s you.”

Sasha steps through the door onto the exit ramps. If he was less Russian, he might not notice the brighter pool of light around where Nicky is pacing at the bottom of the stairs, turning his hair an extra special shade of golden. He pauses just outside the door to savor the moment. He wants to save this in his memory; one way or another, the rest of this day is going to change everything.

“Thank you, Latts.” He hangs up on the “hey what are you” for two reasons. First of all, because Nicky has spotted him now, and he doesn’t have time to explain. And second, because he has no idea what he’s going to do.

“You okay?” he asks as he walks up to Nicky. He slings an arm around his shoulders, because that’s what he’d normally do, and now that he knows why Nicky is blushing, he kind of wants to enjoy it.

“Yes, fine. Uncomfortable seats.” Blush right on cue.

He keeps his grin just a little in check. “You said roller coasters? Need some action now.”

Nicky coughs awkwardly and blushes even harder. “There are some more exciting rides up in Fantasyland.”

“Then we go there! Which way?”

He lets Nicky pull away from him to get at the map in his bag. While Nicky digs through all the shit he brought with, Sasha takes a moment to search “good places to make out disney world” on his phone.

Map finally in hand, Nicky navigates them towards the next area of the park. He’s quiet, but that’s not uncommon. Nicky doesn’t chatter mindlessly, and Sasha’s used to the occasional period of silence. It’s nice, sometimes. Right now, it means he can skim these search results without interruption.

They ride the Seven Dwarfs train, some kind of elephant ride, and another roller coaster (something about stormy barns) before Sasha’s so hungry he can’t focus on creating a plan anymore.

“Nicky, need actual food.” He knows he’s whining, but dammit, he’s a hockey player; dehydrated fruit only goes so far.

“There’s a place up here, just pass the Little Mermaid stuff, can you make it that far?” Nicky’s back to being snarky, so he must be relaxing a little.

Hold on, something about the Little Mermaid was on one of the lists he was reading while they were waiting in line… there it is - ‘Under the Sea’. “One more ride before lunch?”

“Really? I thought you were ‘dying’ of hunger.”

“Don’t be salty. Here, this one has short line.”

Bless whatever power in the universe arranged this line. The wait is relatively non-existent. According to his internet source, this ride is dark and mostly private. He’s looking for any excuse to get back in Nicky’s personal space. He hasn’t decided what to do when he gets there, but he’s hoping there will be a sign from that unnamed power.

They climb onto the ride, and it glides off into the darkness. He slides in far closer to Nicky than the dimensions of the compartment/seat/thing require. Nicky doesn’t move away. Sasha’s sigh of relief is mostly lost in the music.

A couple of minutes go by. This is pretty perfect; he has to give the internet that much. It’s dark; there are only fleeting moments where they are visible to other people. If only he could decide what to do. He can practically see the time of the ride ticking down in his mind, like a power play; he’s wasting this opportunity, and he’s so tired of wanting and not doing anything.

 

_Now’s your moment/floating in a blue lagoon_

 

He can’t take it anymore. He leans in even further to murmur, “Nicky”.

Nicky turns to look at him; his nose brushes along Sasha’s. “Sasha,” he breathes back.

 

_Boy, you better do it soon/no time will be better_

 

If that’s not a sign from the fucking universe, Sasha doesn’t know what is. Fuck it all; hopefully this doesn’t ruin his life.

Kissing Nicky is everything he’d hoped it would be and also a million times better, soft and warm and tasting slightly of oranges. He’s clutching at Sasha’s arm with one hand and digging the other hand into Sasha’s thigh. He pulls away far, far too soon, gasping for air.

“Sasha, what -”

“If you have to ask ‘what’, I’m not doing right,” he murmurs directly into Nicky’s ear before pressing too-short kisses to a spot just under his ear that makes Nicky twitch. Unfortunately, the ride is ending. He drags his nose along Nicky’s jawline as he pulls back to a more socially acceptable distance, just to listen to his breath hitch again.

Their little pod/car/thing slides along the rails and into the exit area. He climbs out and turns back to offer Nicky a hand. It’s a good thing; Nicky looks totally dazed and has barely moved.

“Nicky?”

Nicky shakes his head a little, looking a bit like a puppy climbing out of a pool as he exits onto the platform, under his own power at least. He finally makes eye contact with Sasha.

“We’re going to talk about this, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Food first.”

********

There’s a restaurant just down the way, mere steps from the exit for the Under the Sea ride. They don’t speak to each other while walking, while standing in line, while ordering. Sasha waits, sort of patiently, as Nicky selects a table as far back into a corner as they can get. He doesn’t know precisely where Nicky wants this conversation to go, so he’ll let Nicky start it when he’s ready.

Sasha’s halfway through a roasted pork shank when Nicky clears his throat.

“So, uh, you kissed me.”

“Yes.” The little wrinkle between Nicky’s eyebrows is adorable; he really wants to kiss it away, but sadly, this restaurant is not the place for that.

“Why?” There’s a challenge in Nicky’s eyes that Sasha wasn’t expecting. The tense line of his shoulders, the way he’s fiddling with the chips on his plate - all signs that Nicky is nervous. That’s just not acceptable.

“Because I want to. All the time. Have wanted to for very long time, but don’t think you want that.” He shrugs. “Today, I start to think ‘maybe’. You do different things; it makes me hope, you know?” He tries, but he can’t look at Nicky for this next bit. “But, maybe I’m wrong. It’s okay, just say so, and we forget all about it.”

He stares at his own plate, pushing a couple apple slices back and forth through the caramel sauce that he really shouldn’t be eating. The silence stretches out thin. He’s about to get up and make some excuse to leave when there’s a murmur from across the table.

“I don’t want to forget about it.”

He peeks at Nicky from under his eyelashes. Nicky’s looking out into the restaurant, avoiding eye contact, and blushing furiously. He nudges at Nicky’s foot with his own and watches the corners of his mouth curl up into the tiniest of smiles.

“Good. I don’t want to forget about it either.”

Nicky turns back to look him in the face, his smile blossoming into something that stretches across his face, up into his eyes, and over the table right into Sasha’s heart. He can feel his face doing something equally ridiculous in return.

They’re saved from getting any more sappy in public by Burkie dropping heavily into the empty chair on the restaurant side of the table.

“Thank goodness I found you. Come save Tom, he’s about to do something stupid.”

*******************

Outside the restaurant, a crowd has gathered. Pushing their way to the front, they find Whip in the center alongside a man in costume. There’s a lot of chirping going on about who’s stronger. Whip is taking this a bit too seriously. Latts is not helping; he’s off to one side filming the whole thing.

“What is he doing?” Sasha whispers urgently at Latts.

“He’s about to get suckered into a contest of strength. I’m hoping it’s push ups, you know Tommy hates those.”

“You’re a terrible boyfriend,” Sasha rolls his eyes at Nicky, who is too busy giggling to be helpful either.

“Yeah, well, this is too funny to pass up. I’ll make it up to him later.”

Burkie puts his fingers in his ears and starts humming loudly.

“Shhh,” Latts elbows Burkie. “They’re about to start.”

Whip makes a credible effort, but the actor is blatantly cheating. No one else seems too bothered by this, but it’s probably good that Whip isn’t paying attention. Whip ‘loses’ when he glances up to make sure Latts is watching. He clearly wasn’t expecting to see the rest of their group standing there, and his distraction throws him off balance. The crowd applauds as he climbs to his feet, but Sasha can see the desire to respond to the actor’s condescending chirping as Whip walks away.

“Were you filming the whole thing?”

“Of course!”

“Good. I can pick the best bit for Instagram then.”

“Oh my god,” Nicky interjects. “You were doing that on purpose?!”

“Well yeah,” Whip replies, looking very confused. “I found that guy on YouTube last night, and I thought it would be cool to give it a shot.”

Nicky turns a judgmental eye on Burkie. “You interrupted us for this?”

Latts is on that like a fly on honey. “Interrupted you? What were you doing?”

‘Nothing’ is a much more convincing answer when the person delivering it isn’t nineteen shades of red and avoiding eye contact with everyone. Latts turns a delighted eye on Sasha, who is trying very hard not to look as smug as he feels.

“We should all hit ‘It’s a Small World” while we’re together,” Latts suggests, “since we’re an international group.”

“But, Miiiiike, I hate that song,” Whip whines.

Latts kicks him in the ankle. “Stop whining, you’ll live.”

Nicky and Burkie are already headed off, presumably towards this new ride, speaking quickly in Swedish. Nicky keeps blushing as Burkie pokes at him and giggles. God only knows what they’re talking about, but as Whip and Latts surround him, Sasha thinks he might be in for a similar conversation in English.

“Sooooooooooo….” Latts drags out slowly.

“You have question, you ask. Otherwise, shhh.”

Latts rolls his eyes. “So what did you do after we spoke earlier?”

“Some rides. Ate lunch. You?”

“Oh come on, that’s not all you did, or Papa wouldn’t be up there giggling like a teenage girl and blushing every time he so much as looks at you.”

He’s right. Every few steps, both Nicky and Burkie glance back over their shoulders. Nicky really hasn’t stopped blushing since they abandoned their lunch. Or smiling and giggling, actually. Sasha doesn’t normally kiss and tell, but… he’s far too pleased with himself right now to pretend to be modest.

“Is true, not all I did,” he says, struggling to contain the smile that wants to explode across his face. He lets the anticipation build, just until Latts is about to ask again. “Kissed Nicky.”

“YES!” Whip shouts to his left, throwing himself at Sasha like they’re celebrating a goal. Latts, not to be left out, grabs hold of both of them and bounces up and down while cheering. They’re drawing a ridiculous amount of attention, including that of Nicky and Burkie from up ahead. Burkie is giggling at them. Nicky is trying to frown disapprovingly at their behavior but is failing miserably.

“Okay, okay, knock it off.” He shrugs both boys off and shakes his head at Nicky. “People are staring.”

“We’re fucking excited though, Ovi,” Whip grins obnoxiously. “It’s about damn time.”

“He’s gotta be so fucking happy, look at him. He’s like...glowing or something.”

“So eloquent, Latts,” Whip laughs.

“No, but seriously,” Latts insists. “Backie’s been hoping for this for a long time, he told me.” He turns a very serious face on Sasha. “You can’t screw this up, you know? Not only will it make the room really awkward, it’ll make Backie really sad. And if you make him sad, there are going to be a lot of people really angry with you. So, just, don’t screw it up.”

These children. They are so fiercely protective, and Sasha doesn’t blame them one bit. Nicky deserves their loyalty more than anyone else he knows. He can’t do anything less than take that statement seriously.

“I will do everything I can to not screw it up. But,” he makes very serious eye contact with both of them, “you need to tell me if you think I’m screwing up and not fixing it. Maybe sometimes I don’t notice I do something stupid - you make sure I fix it, okay?”

They both nod very seriously.

“Okay, enough serious, let’s go. How bad is this ride?”

“Oh my god, Ovi,” Whip starts, whiny already, “this song is going to crawl into your head and kill brain cells.”

********

There is a line for It’s a Small World. A long line. Normally, this would be annoying, but it’s hard to be annoyed when a crowded queue gives you the perfect excuse for pressing up against Nicklas Bäckström. Latts rolls his eyes at them, but he’s in no position to talk; Whip is draped all over him like a second skin. Only Burkie has anything resembling a personal bubble, and he’s actually starting to look a little wistful about it.

It’s difficult to carry on a conversation over the crowd and the background music, but that’s okay. Sasha’s actually a little overwhelmed at the idea that he’s allowed to stand this close, allowed to not just lay an arm over Nicky’s shoulders but to pull him close and _keep him there_. The slow moving line means that, even when they’re moving forward, they don’t have to be far apart. He can stand here and absorb the heat radiating off Nicky and try to organize his thoughts on all the other things they are going to need to discuss later.

They eventually make it onto the ride. Nicky follows Burkie into a row, and Latts and Whip somehow end up a couple of rows ahead with a very astonished teenage girl. It’s not a small space necessarily - there’s a family of four in the row ahead of them - but three hockey players take up enough room that Sasha feels completely justified in plastering himself against Nicky’s side. Nicky shifts around to accommodate him, and Sasha takes a moment to hope there aren’t unidentified Capitals fans behind them on this boat. There’s no way to explain what he and Nicky are doing right now besides ‘cuddling’. Burkie takes one glance at them and cracks up laughing. Nicky says something snarky-sounding in Swedish and smacks him in the arm. It has very little effect. His laughter is loud enough to draw the attention of Whip and Latts, who take it in turn to peek back at them and dissolve into giggles.

Burkie is distracted from his laughter by the movement into the first section of the ride. He and Nicky are, based on their tone and the few words Sasha recognizes, bitching about Sweden being lumped together with Norway in a tiny corner, easily missed. This is clearly an assault on Swedish dignity. As the ride moves into the next room, Sasha chooses the wiser, more mature (and more likely to not piss Nicky off) action of not pointing out how the section on Russia is bigger, as it should be. Both Swedes turn a wary eye on him as the boat moves by. He tries to contain a grin and pointedly looks across the space at India. His restraint earns him a brutal pinch to an indecently high spot on his inner thigh. He jerks his head around to look at Nicky, eyes wide with shock. Nicky’s not visibly paying attention to him, but he’s shaking slightly with laughter. Sasha spends the rest of the ride plotting his revenge.

*******************

Gathered outside the exit, the boys cluster around Nicky, all smiling broadly and laughing while discussing who’s going to go where. As they part, the boys headed back into the heart of Fantasyland, Latts passes closely to Sasha and tries to whisper - “Haunted Mansion, Hall of Presidents. Don’t get arrested.” His ‘whisper’ is not terribly successful. A little old lady walking behind him snickers and winks at Sasha as she passes. Nicky looks scandalized.

“So…” Sasha grins at him, “Haunted Mansion?”

“You’re terrible,” Nicky rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“You love me,” Sasha shoots back without thought.

Nicky’s eyes go very wide before they dart away from Sasha. He shuffles his feet before looking just over Sasha’s shoulder. “We should go, get in line. I think the Haunted Mansion is pretty busy.” He turns to walk away.

Sasha catches hold of his arm, but instead of pulling Nicky towards him, he allows Nicky to pull him along until they reach a slightly less crowded portion of the path. “Nicky, _dorogoy_ , wait.”

Nicky stops so abruptly that Sasha crashes into him, knocking him another couple of steps forward. He pulls Sasha off to the side, out of the way of the bustling crowd.

“ _Dorogoy_?” Nicky’s accent is always just a smidgen off, but it’s so sweet that he tries. Somehow Sasha has forgotten that Nicky spent months in Russia with him not that long ago, never mind playing with Sasha and other Russian-speakers for many years. He probably knows what that word means, and he looks incredibly vulnerable waiting for Sasha to confirm or deny that “darling” is what he meant to say.

Nicky should never, ever have to look like that; fortunately, this is a problem Sasha can easily solve. He steps close enough that he can speak quietly, just for Nicky to hear. “ _Dorogoy_. _Lyubimyy_. _Milyy_. _Prelestnyy_. _Voskhititel'nyy_.” He moves in closer to whisper in Nicky’s ear the one Swedish phrase he’s been practicing since Nicky called to say he was coming to Moscow during the lockout - “ _Jag älskar dig_.”

He still has his fingers wrapped around Nicky’s wrist; he feels the shiver spread through Nicky’s body. He smiles to himself as he feels Nicky’s other hand tangle itself in the folds of his shirt and hears the shaky breaths Nicky is taking. He’s happy to stand here, hiding Nicky from view and letting him absorb that Sasha doesn’t _just_ want to kiss him today. Or just want to kiss him _today,_ either. He wants everything Nicky will let him have, and he’ll probably want more than that just because he’s greedy.

It seems like ages, but has probably only been a few seconds when he hears Nicky whisper, “Sasha.”

“ _Da, kotyonok_?”

“ _Ya tebya lyublyu_.”

It’s Sasha’s turn to be overcome. Just the idea that Nicky’s been practicing ‘I love you’ in Russian the same way that Sasha practiced it in Swedish, and for the very same reason, is enough to make his knees feel like jello.

He forces himself to step back from Nicky with a frustrated sigh. Nicky’s beaming at him again, eyes shining suspiciously. Latts was right; he is kind of glowing.

“Come, we need find Haunted Mansion.” He pulls Nicky back into the path, heading in what he desperately hopes is the right direction.

“Why?” Nicky is definitely laughing at him, not even trying to hide his chuckles.

Sasha pulls his phone from his pocket, opens the browser - still on a list of best places to make out in the Magic Kingdom - and holds the phone out to Nicky. It takes mere seconds before Nicky drags him to a stop again, this time because he’s stopped walking to laugh. He collapses into Sasha’s side, burying his face in Sasha’s shoulder while he practically cackles.

“I can’t believe you googled that, Sasha, oh my god.”

“What? Is useful information!”

“Yes, for teenagers!”

Every time he thinks Nicky’s done laughing, they make eye contact again and he starts all over. Eventually, Sasha gives up and joins in. It’s not like Nicky doesn’t have a valid point.

“Okay,” Nicky wheezes out between giggles, eventually, “let’s go make out at the Haunted Mansion.”

********

That’s much easier said than done. The Haunted Mansion ride isn’t far, but it’s later afternoon now, and wait times are “peaking”, according to Nicky. He claims 30 minutes is a perfectly reasonable amount of time to wait, but he’s not the one in a hurry to kiss him.

Sasha grumbles in line. He’s impatient, and he’s not ashamed to admit it. He’s been waiting a very long time for this, and while it’s true that another 30 minutes isn’t so bad considering the years prior, now that he’s allowed to have Nicky he’s a little bit desperate to make up for all the time they’ve apparently been wasting.

Nicky tries to distract him, making him look up several of the other major attractions left in the park. They decide that, even with the recommendation from Latts, the Hall of Presidents may actually kill Sasha with boredom, so they’ll skip that one. Whip and Latts are also accidentally distracting as they send a steady stream of pictures of Burkie testing what must be every dessert available in Fantasyland.

“The nutritionist is going to murder him,” Nicky giggles.

“If he doesn’t murder himself first. We should make him walk back to Tampa.”

Nicky turns his face into Sasha’s shoulder to laugh. Maybe this waiting thing isn’t so bad.

Sasha’s attitude improves immensely as soon as they clear the entrance to the ride. The first room is crowded - perfect justification for moving farther into Nicky’s space than is socially acceptable - and incredibly dark. In revenge for the thigh pinching earlier, Sasha waits until the lights have been very dim for several moments before sliding one hand into the back pocket of Nicky’s jeans and squeezing.

Nicky jumps and jostles the couple ahead of them with his bag. His blush is practically glowing in the dark room, and Sasha is shaking with the effort of containing his laughter when Nicky finally stops apologizing and turns his head to glare at him.

He does have to move his hand before the crowd shuffles forward into the next chamber, but he doesn’t have to be happy about it. He consoles himself with a friendly farewell pat, which earns him an elbow in the ribs. He’s totally winning this inappropriate groping war.

The next room turns out to be the line for the actual ride part of the attraction, and Sasha is pleased to see the two-person cars collecting passengers ahead of them (they’re definitely called cars, he looked it up in line). His earlier search for make out spots suggested there was a point during the ride at which one should be appropriately clothed again, something about a cemetery and singing statue heads; Sasha hopes he notices.

They slip into one of the moving cars and slide off into the darkness. They’ve barely cleared the entry point before Sasha feels fingers skimming along his jaw and breath on the side of his throat.

“I was led to believe there would be making out during this ride,” Nicky murmurs in his ear.

“Would hate to disappoint,” Sasha murmurs back before twisting to catch Nicky’s mouth with his own. He doesn’t quite make it the first try, because it is _really_ fucking dark in here, but any and every part of Nicky is worth kissing (which is a topic to consider later, when they don’t have to be in public for a while). Unsurprisingly, it takes them very little time, even in the pitch black, to sync themselves up.

Warm, soft, just the kind of wet he likes; Nicky’s mouth is the kind of place he’d be happy to spend hours. Every adjective Sasha can think of right now - in both of his major languages - is a little ridiculous and overly dramatic. If he’d known kissing Nicky could be like this, he’d have dragged him into a supply closet or a training room or the back corner of a bar somewhere a long fucking time ago.

He’s so lost in the new sensations that he doesn’t completely register the pressure on his leg as fingers slowly moving up his inseam until it’s too late. He wasn’t really planning to move to this level in here - there’s nowhere near enough time for everything that he wants and needs to do to Nicky - and he is _not_ losing this groping war. He can’t really help the wheeze that breaks free as Nicky presses his entire hand against Sasha’s cock.  

He’s trying to breathe somewhat normally, so maybe no one will hear him over the sounds of this ride, but it’s hard with Nicky’s mouth now attached to a spot along his collarbone that is shorting out his brain in combination with the regular rocking pressure of Nicky’s hand.

“Ni-Nicky,” he gasps out, using the fingers he’s tangled in Nicky’s hair to tug him gently away.

“Yes,  _älskling_?” It’s very not fair to be finding out that Nicky’s voice can sound like _that_ right now. A little rough, a little deeper; it’s making Sasha’s whole ‘we can’t do this here’ argument fade away in bits and pieces.

“Fucking hell, Nicky,” he pants into Nicky’s ear. “Not enough time. Other people.”

Nicky’s responding chuckle is downright evil. “Oh, is that not what you meant?”

He’s got his breath back enough to actually chuckle. “Not here, anyway.” He, regretfully, shifts Nicky’s hand, wrapping it up with his own and hoping there’s enough time left on this ride that he’s not going to embarrass himself when they have to exit.

“Promises, promises,” Nicky downright grumbles.

“Yes,” he leans in to whisper, “promise. Soon as we get back to Tampa, going to absolutely wreck you.”

Nicky shudders against him with a rough, choppy exhale.

“Now, just have to wrangle children and drive all that way.”

“We have terrible timing,” Nicky complains.

“Could be worse. Could be summer.”

*******************

Back out in the sunlight, Sasha stops to take a selfie in front of the Haunted Mansion - partially for memories, partially to subtly see if he needs to be hiding a visible mark on his collarbone for the rest of the day. He doesn’t see anything in the resulting photo, but he can feel a faint tingle. He’s going to get so much shit in the locker room tomorrow if that bruises.

They’ve barely made it into the heart of Liberty Square when Nicky’s phone blows up. Nicky can barely get a word in edgewise as he finds an out of the way spot to stop walking. Several aborted attempts later, he finally gets out, “Tom, give Mike your phone.”

That doesn’t sound good.

There’s another pause on Nicky’s end of the conversation, but he’s nodding at whatever he’s hearing, his serious ‘alternate captain’ face on. It’s kind of hot, really, but now may not be the time. Eventually, Nicky says, “yes, ok, we’re coming,” and ends the call.

“So…,” he starts out slowly,

“Yes?”

“You remember saying that Burkie would ‘murder himself’ with all those desserts?”

“Yes…”

“Too many desserts and the Tea Cups ride do not go together well for poor Andre,” Nicky explains, trying so hard to not laugh.

“What happened?”

“He managed to make it off the ride, but he’s been throwing up in some bushes. Whip’s certain they’re going to get kicked out, Latts is too busy laughing to be helpful. I think we’re going to be leaving a little sooner than we expected.”

“What a shame.” Sasha almost manages to deliver that with a straight face, but he can’t really withstand Nicky’s giggles. “No really, Nicky, is fine. Sooner we go…” he lets his voice trail off suggestively. Nicky, predictably, blushes.

This is turning into a great day.

********

By the time they make it back across the park to the Tea Cups ride, Burkie looks ill but not quite like the image of death warmed over that Latts had surreptitiously sent Sasha. He’s sprawled partially on the curb, partially on the pavement in a convenient patch of shade. Whip is pacing back and forth, looking shifty, and Latts is perched on the curb next to Burkie, pointedly ignoring his panicking boyfriend.

“Oh, thank god!” Whip exclaims. “What the fuck took you guys so long?”

“We were halfway across the park,” Sasha shrugs. “You had it under control.”

“No, we did not! Burkie was sick, and people were staring, and, and…”

“Deep breaths, Tommy,” Latts says in a monotone, poking at his phone. “Maybe you should sit down.”

Whip all but collapses to the pavement next to Latts and throws his upper half across Latts’s lap. Latts simply shifts his phone up out of the way, like moving your feet for the vacuum, and pats him absent-mindedly on the back.

Nicky crouches down next to Burkie, speaking quietly to him in Swedish. Sasha catches something that he thinks means “how do you feel”. Burkie tries to smile as he replies, but he looks pretty wiped out. Nicky digs the bottle of water out of his bag and hands it over before standing and walking back over to Sasha.

“I think he’s going to be fine. Maybe a little dehydrated, but we can stop for more water, right?”

“Of course we stop!” He pulls Nicky a few steps further away. “I wait so long for you, Nicky, fifteen more minutes not going to kill me.”

“Lucky you,” Nicky mutters with a frown. “Might kill me though.”

Sasha’s laughter echoes off the nearest flat surfaces. He again wants very badly to kiss away the wrinkle between Nicky’s eyebrows. He settles for squeezing his hand around Nicky’s forearm, just once, before letting go.

“Okay, Burkie, ready to go?”

Burkie nods and struggles to his feet. Whip pops up so quickly he almost falls over, but he rallies and hurries over to steady Burkie. Latts hands Nicky back the water bottle before brushing at dirt on his pants.

The boys turn towards the park entrance, making it a handful of steps before Sasha clutches at Nicky’s arm.

“Wait, wait, Nicky. I need map.”

Nicky pulls the now slightly rumpled map out of a pocket on his bag and passes it over. He looks confused, and the boys have backtracked to cluster around too closely. They really have no concept of personal space. He nudges Whip back with a shoulder as he scans the map quickly.

“Aha!” He taps the map with a finger. “We take the train back?” he asks Nicky, fighting to keep himself from smirking.

A smile breaks across Nicky’s face like a very gentle wave. “Really?”

Nailed it. “Really.” Sasha turns to the boys. “You can come with or you can walk.”

“Oh, we’re coming.” Latts states, grinning proudly.

It takes a few minutes to make the walk to the station, but those few minutes are well worth it for the smile on Nicky’s face when the train pulls up to loading platform. He drags Sasha by the wrist into a row. The children clamber into the row behind them, one of Whip’s elbows catching Sasha in the head. He’d turn around to glare at him, but that would interrupt Nicky’s moment. Whip will just find himself cleaning up pucks after practice for a while.

He doesn’t really understand why Nicky wants to ride this train so badly. There are worse views - the lake on the one side is nice enough - but there are certainly more scenic trains in the world. It really doesn’t matter, though; Sasha would voluntarily get on the DC Metro if it would make Nicky smile like that. He’s accepted this about himself. He’s a little concerned that it’s going to get worse now, but that’s a risk he’s going to take.

He expects Nicky to be disappointed when they arrive at the park entrance station less than five minutes later, but he doesn’t look it. He just herds the boys in the right direction towards the monorail, still smiling as if he’s forgotten he’s doing it.

None of them talk much on the way back to the car. Whip and Latts mumble at each other a bit, but they’re surprisingly subdued. Burkie trails after them, looking like he needs a nap. Nicky’s once again navigating the parking lot by bumping against Sasha, but this time he’s letting their fingers brush together, just enough.

“Why was the train so important?” He’s been wondering about this since he suggested it; if he doesn’t ask now, he’ll have to wait until they’re back in Tampa.

“I like trains,” Nicky starts. “And it wasn’t so much that this particular train was important, though it was something I wanted to do today.” He smiles shyly at his shoes, like it’s suddenly too much to make eye contact. “It was important because _you_ _remembered_.”

He stops abruptly, reaching out to catch Sasha by the loose hem of his shirt. “It was important because I said I wanted to ride that train, like, seven hours ago, and you remembered. And you didn’t just remember and shrug it off, you delayed your own plans even more to make sure that I got to ride it.”

Sasha chooses not to point out that it would have taken them longer to walk back to the entrance. He’s not stupid, and he thinks an interruption might make Nicky let go and step back.

“I should probably stop being surprised every time you’re thoughtful and sweet. I have a feeling I might be surprised quite a lot in the future.”

“Pro-probably.” He has to stop mid-word to clear his throat. Nicky giggles.

“OH MY GOOODDDDD” Whip yells from several feet ahead of them. “Could you two stop being disgusting in the parking lot? Some of us would like to get back to the hotel at a reasonable hour.”

*******************

After a quick stop for water and snacks - Whip comes out of the store whining that Nicky wouldn’t let him pick anything sugary - they are back on the road to Tampa. It’s not a long drive, a little more than an hour. Sasha expects to be twitching with impatience the entire way, but the boys settle into the back much more quietly than he anticipated. Burkie falls asleep before they’ve technically left the greater Orlando area, head against the window, mouth hanging open slightly. He might be drooling.

Whip takes a few more minutes, complaining about the radio station Nicky chooses and the seating arrangements in the backseat. Latts says very little, mostly “mmhmm”s, and lets Whip rearrange him a bit. 10 minutes later, Whip’s drooling on his shoulder, contorted into an awkward looking position that only 20 year old’s can manage without excessive suffering later. Latts doesn’t look as sleepy, but he seems content to be used as a pillow.

Nicky glances into the backseat and smiles. He lets his smile linger on Sasha as he turns back. A moment later, he reaches over to rest his hand on top of Sasha’s on the gearshift. Sasha has never been so happy to be driving an automatic car. This time, he’s allowed to twist his hand around and entwine their fingers. Nicky’s glow could light the interior of the car.

“Awwwwww,” Latts coos from the backseat.

Sasha would give him the finger, but that would involve letting go of either the steering wheel or Nicky. It’s not worth dying over.

********

The boys stumble out of the car at the hotel, half awake. NIcky squeezes his hand once, before letting go to exit the car behind them. It’s not until Sasha’s halfway through the lobby, returning from the car rental desk, that he realizes the entire team is spread throughout the room.

“There you are!” Chimmer yells. “We’re leaving for dinner in like 20 minutes, what the fuck.”

Dinner. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He snags Nicky by the back of the shirt and hisses at him, “Fuck, Nicky, _dinner_. Do we have to?”

Nicky pulls him into an open elevator before replying. “Team captains don’t get to skip team dinners, Sasha.”

“What if we hadn’t made it back in time?”

“I had that covered, but now that everyone knows we’re here, we have to go.”

“Goddammit, Nicky. This is going to take _forever_.”

“Hurry up and change, or it’s going to take even longer.”

The frustration is worse when he remembers that Nicky’s in the adjoining room. He’s right over there, and Sasha wants to go through that door and make him forget about dinner. However, the consequences for missing a team meal are probably not worth it, not even considering how irritated Nicky would be.

Nicky told him not to wait, so he hurries through the world’s fastest shower and into clothes he hopes are appropriate for the restaurant that’s been chosen. He beats Nicky to the lobby and tries to look like he’s not irritated with every single one of his waiting teammates for existing. He might not do a convincing job.

Latts elbows him, smirking as unsubtly as ever, to ask “So how much do you want to skip dinner right now?”

“Almost as much as I do,” comes Nicky’s voice from over his shoulder. Latts snickers. He’s prevented from replying by the sudden shifting of the group as Reirden wrangles everyone together to leave.

*******************

If tomorrow there’s a test on the restaurant chosen for this team dinner, Sasha will fail it with whatever the opposite of “flying colors” is.

He sort of remembers a charter bus, Nicky pressed along one side because he was sitting half in Sasha’s seat. He vaguely remembers entering a restaurant, but there’s nothing to distinguish it from most of the other restaurants they’ve chosen for team dinners over the years. He definitely remembers the pressure of Nicky’s hand, low on his back, as they navigate through the tables. He may have ordered steak; that’s a pretty normal order, something he could do in his sleep. He does remember Nicky’s hand on his leg, starting out near his knee and _so so slowly_ inching its way further up his thigh. He thinks people were eating dessert when he had to stop it, for everyone’s sake really. The return bus ride happened. He couldn’t describe it, but since they were now standing in the middle of the hotel lobby, it must have.

“Hey, Ovi!!” Orpik hollers from across the lobby. Fucking hell, what now?!

“Meet you upstairs,” Nicky whispers, patting him on the ass and dodging around Brooks with a laugh.

Sasha tries to pay attention to Brooks; he really does. It’s pretty shitty to ignore someone who’s trying to talk to you about something that’s possibly important, but he’s too busy watching Nicky step into an elevator alongside Burkie and Schmidty. It should be easier to pay attention once the doors close, but now he’s distracted with the knowledge that Nicky is going to be upstairs, in his room, waiting for Sasha _._ And not ‘hey you wanna watch a movie’ waiting, but ‘hey I really want to get into your pants’ waiting.

“Brooks, Brooks,” Sasha interrupts. “Very sorry, I just-- I need-- talk to me tomorrow!” he shouts over his shoulder. He’s not quite running towards the elevator; he’s very proud of this fact. He debates taking the stairs for a split second before remembering they’re staying on the 16th floor. He’d like to have the energy to do at least one of the million things he wants to do to Nicky.

It is a fact of life that elevators travel more slowly when you are in a hurry. How they do this, Sasha isn’t sure - he’s a hockey player, not a physicist - but he has been the victim of the incredibly slow elevator many times before. On top of that, everyone already in this elevator is stopping on a different floor - one lower than 16, because everything hates him right now. They stop five times before he reaches his own floor, and he’s a little ashamed to admit he nearly knocks over a small child in his hurry to get out. Not ashamed enough to stop and apologize, just enough to briefly hope that they aren’t hockey fans who are going to tweet about how rude he is.

He’s on his third attempt with his keycard before he notices that it’s facing the wrong way. At this rate, he’s going to accidentally elbow Nicky in the face, and they’ll spend all night treating a black eye. He takes a second to breathe, slowly, and unlocks the door.

Inside, he throws his jacket over the desk chair in the corner, kicks his shoes in the general direction of his suitcase, and goes to brush his teeth. He’s got no memory of what he had for dinner, but it can’t hurt. He’s just rinsing when there’s a light knock on the connecting door to the next room. He struggles with this lock as well; so much for his motor skills tonight.

Nicky’s laughing at him when the door finally comes open. He’s had time to change; the well-worn Dynamo Moscow shirt he’s wearing stabs Sasha right in the solar plexus. The Capitals sweats he’s wearing wouldn’t have even registered after that except for one tiny detail that Sasha catches as he steps back to let Nicky through the door - those sweats are missing a digit. He does a fairly obvious double take before he can process that he’s seeing this correctly -- that’s an “8”, not a “19”. For all that he promised to wreck Nicky tonight, he’s not sure he’s going to have enough functioning brain cells to follow through if he can’t get a full breath in soon.

“Are those,” he has to stop and swallow - his voice is too rough to understand, “are those mine?”

Nicky sprawls across the end of the bed, propped up with his hands behind him, and smirks at him. “Yep.” His eyes twinkle in a way that Sasha equates with mischief. “Shirt too.”

“Fuck _,_ Nicky” is all he gets out before he interrupts himself; it’s hard to talk when he’s trying to lick the taste of Nicky’s toothpaste out of his mouth.

Nicky tugs and pushes at him until Sasha sits next to him on the bed. He’s sort of expecting a repeat of the Haunted Mansion, but today is all about Nicky surprising him. He pulls away and slides off the bed onto his knees.

Sasha has tried very, very hard not to picture Nicky like this, looking up at through his lashes with a mischievous tilt to his lips. He hasn’t always been successful, and those failures have occasionally made his life very awkward. But his imagination could really only give him a two-dimensional version of this moment. It was always missing the tiny details that are so overwhelming now.

Nicky’s hands are just barely shaking as they unfasten the button on his pants and carefully open the zipper. He’s either biting his lower lip or licking over it as he concentrates. His fingers are lightly calloused and little dry, brushing against Sasha’s skin as they work his pants all the way off.

“Take your shirt off,” he says quietly before leaning in to drag his tongue across Sasha’s thigh, right over the fresh bruise from his pinch earlier.

Sasha’s hands are more than barely shaking as he fights the stupid buttons on this fucking shirt. He’s never been so happy to have opened the cuffs while he was brushing his teeth; he only needs to open about half of these minuscule pieces of evil before he can pull it off over his head and throw it very far away.

Nicky’s blunt nails dig into his thigh, and his hair brushes across sensitive skin as he follows with his tongue the slow, creeping path his fingers took during dinner. Sasha is seriously considering a heart attack by the time he actually reaches the edge of Sasha’s boxer briefs. If not a heart attack, then maybe just hyperventilation. He’s certain he hasn’t breathed properly since Nicky stepped into the room, and the chance of that changing any time soon is pretty low. He shifts when Nicky tugs at the waistband of his briefs, moving just enough that Nicky can slide them down his legs and off.

The first light brush of Nicky’s fingers along his cock shouldn’t surprise him, but he’s been too busy watching Nicky to pay attention to himself. Nicky smiles when he shivers and glances back up at him, big green eyes sparkling. He takes Sasha’s rough exhalation as a signal to stop teasing and finally, _finally_ draws his tongue up the shaft and around the head. He slides his mouth down and down and _oh my fucking god_.

It’s spine-meltingly good. Almost literally so; Sasha collapses back onto the mattress. He wants to watch, but every time he attempts to push himself back up, Nicky does _something_ with his tongue that short circuits key neural pathways. After a couple of attempts, he gives up altogether. He’ll watch next time. **Next time.** The thought alone, christ; it’s a very good thing Nicky is mostly pinning him to the bed at this point.  

He knows that he’s babbling; he takes some comfort in the fact that it’s most likely in Russian, so Nicky is only understanding a fraction of it. Part of his brain is wondering how he’s got the air to talk when he’s still feeling like he can’t get enough to breathe. He can’t focus on any one sensation for very long. They’re all piling up on top of each other, and it’s like the layers are helping Nicky hold him down.

The pile of sensation is about to topple over like a house of cards. He can feel it creeping up faster and faster and desperately hopes that Nicky understands the garbled warning he’s attempting to get out.

Nicky must understand, because he pulls back, breathing across Sasha’s thigh as he wraps his fingers around Sasha’s cock. He manages only a few strokes before Sasha is coming, toes curling, muscles clenching, and eyes squeezing shut so hard he’s seeing fireworks burst across his eyelids.

He’s floating on all the best endorphins when he feels Nicky climb up onto the bed next to him. He should move, reach out and touch, do something - it’s Nicky’s turn, after all. But he feels like he’s been rebooted; nothing is responding to his instructions quite yet. Nicky’s curled up next to him, pressed all along one side just like he has been several times today, with the only difference being a lot less clothing. That and the hand resting on his chest, right over his heart. Nicky’s fingers are tapping lightly in precisely the same rhythm.

Several deep breaths later, he seems to be in control of his own limbs again. He doesn’t give Nicky a lot of warning before rolling over on top of him, weighing him down into the mattress. He outweighs Nicky by enough that Nicky’s attempts to thrust up against him aren’t very successful.

“C’mon, Sasha,” Nicky whines, “please, just, _something_.”

“What you want, _vozlyúblennyy_?” He murmurs in Nicky’s ear, dragging a thumb down the other side of his neck.

Nicky’s breathing heavy and twitching before he manages to vocalize anything that remotely resembles a word. “Just, here,” he shoves at Sasha until he’s got one of Sasha’s thighs between his. “Just, just there, _ja, precis så_.”

Sasha shifts up just enough to give him room to move. He knows he’s not operating at prime brain function right now, but it does seem like he should be doing more to earn this reaction out of Nicky.

“Just this, you sure?”

“Sasha, have you... seen yourself... in spandex?” Nicky pants.

He chuckles through his mouthful of Nicky’s collarbone. He keeps the hand not holding him up sliding across whatever parts of Nicky he can reach like this and reminds himself to thank the hockey gods for the glorious gift that is hockey ass. He gets in good few minutes of groping before Nicky digs his fingers into his back as he comes.

Sasha slides off to one side, giving Nicky room to get his breath back. He’s a little sleepy - it’s been kind of a long day - but they’re both sticky now, laying the wrong way on the bed, and about to be freezing as the air conditioner kicks on (stupid Florida). In a minute, he’ll make himself get up - or, let’s be real, Nicky will probably make him get up - so they can go to sleep slightly less disgusting. But for right now, he’s just going to lay here and float on these endorphins, listening to Nicky breathe and wondering how he got this lucky.

********

 

Whip’s Instagram post of all five of them garners over 11,000 likes.

 

The caption? “Best family vacation ever.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> TRANSLATIONS:  
> dorogoy - дорогой - darling  
> lyubimyy - любимый - precious/beloved  
> milyy - милый - honey/sweetie  
> prelestnyy - прелестный - lovely/adorable/pretty  
> voskhititel'nyy - восхитительный - delicious  
> jag älskar dig - I love you  
> da, kotyonok - Yes, kitten  
> ya tebya lyublyu - я тебя люблю - I love you  
> ja, precis så - yes, like that
> 
> If any of this is horribly wrong, please say so. The internet is only so helpful.


End file.
